As Dark As Blood
by Half-BPrincess
Summary: Searching for the Horcruxes, Hermione is irreversibly changed to Darkness. Will she and her newfound lover manage to break the Wizarding World into pieces?
1. Prologue: The Beginning of the End

- Prologue -

The Beginning Of The End

- HBP -

Thursday 30th October 1997

- HBP -

With a sharp crack that echoed across the graveyard, a figure in a dark cloak whirled into view. The glint of a silver mask shone in the moonlight. It dropped to its knees the instant it arrived, head bent to the floor, as if bowing to some unknown God. Even knowing that it was alone in the darkness, the figure did not rise from its place, bent forwards and kneeling, eyes seemingly glued to the muddy ground.

A slight hissing sound could be heard after ten minutes of silence. The figure stiffened slightly, but otherwise gave no indication of hearing the noise. Another few minutes passed in silence before another hiss was heard. This time the source was visible. Had any sane person stood in the darkened cemetery, it would have been plain to see a large, olive green python winding its way through the tombs. The snake approached the figure with certainty, carefully circling it. It - the snake - hissed loudly, before very deliberately biting its own tail. Both snake and cloaked figure disappeared.

- HBP -

Thursday 14th August 1997

Eleven Weeks Earlier

- HBP -

Harry, Ron and Hermione had huddled together in an upstairs bathroom at the top of Grimmauld Place. Hermione had reasoned that, if seen leaving from a bathroom, it would be assumed that the three of them had been engaging in the wild sexual exploits that Rita Skeeter's gossip columns alluded to. The 'adult' members of the Order had been conspiring to separate the three, on the basis that bad things tended to happen around Harry. All three of the trio thought the idea codswallop. Not that trouble didn't happen around Harry, more that splitting them up would diminish the amount of trouble. In actual fact, both Ron and Hermione had separately come to the conclusion that when Harry was left on his own, he tended to attract more trouble; hence the covert meetings in bathrooms.

Most of their meetings had tended to follow the same pattern. Each of the three would outline the things they had done since the previous meeting, the secrets they had overheard, and any books of research they had managed to get through. Harry told the others of the spells he had researched, learnt, and the things that Remus had let slip in their conversations. Ron told the others of the Death Eater profiles he had updated with the skirmish information he had overheard at Order meetings using his brothers' extendable ears, and the books of war strategy, Muggle and Magical that 'just might save us', pinpointing magical locations he found references to in a world atlas. Hermione told the others of the wards she had broken to get to yet another secret store of decidedly Dark books of the Black family, which so much as implied anything to do with Horcruxes, tallying that back with Harry's account of Voldemort's younger years.

Usually, they spoke in that order too, Harry being the most isolated and therefore the most in need of attention, Ron wanting to feel even the slightest bit more important than anyone else, and Hermione not really caring when she spoke, as long as she did so. However, the day in question, it was Hermione who first broke the silence.

"I think I've reached a standstill," she said from her perch on the closed toilet seat (Harry was sitting on the side of the bath while Ron lay in it). "but I think I know where we need to go to move forwards." Harry leant forwards, resting his chin in his hand, elbow propped up on his knee.

"Where, 'Mione?" he asked. Hermione scowled.

"Don't call me that," she snapped, causing both boys to laugh at her pout. "And we need to go to Albania." Ron sat up straight away, shocking Harry so much that he promptly fell backwards into the bath, and onto Ron's lap. The pair froze uncomfortably as Hermione continued talking. "I think that's where he learned about Horcruxes, and we need to learn how to make them to destroy them. There are rumours about the vampires there…" Harry interrupted, waving his hand as he pushed himself up and out of the bath.

"Hermione, we can't even manage to meet every day, how on Earth could we manage to get to Romania?" Harry shook his head in a manner reminiscent of Sirius; rather similar to a wet dog. "You'll have to find another way to get information. Maybe there's another store of books we haven't found yet…"

"Harry, there _isn__'__t_another store of books. There just isn't. I've combed every part of this damn house, and the only place to go next is Albania. I can't go on my own…" Hermione trailed off hopefully, ducking her head and looking up through her lashes. "You know that the both of you are better than me if we get attacked."

"She can't go on her own," Ron repeated. "We'll have to go with her."

"And what do we say to the Order?" Harry asked hotly. "They'll go nuts if we just disappear."

"We tell them," Ron said simply.

"Tell them what? That Dumbledore left us a secret mission, that we need to go to the wilds of Albania to research?" Harry was standing now, pacing up and down the room, a very short circuit to be sure.

"Yeah. Tell them that."

- HBP -

Thursday 30th October 1997

- HBP -

Both the figure and the snake reappeared in front of a throne. If the figure had looked up, it would have noted the lack of furniture, or furnishings. Other than the ornate, gilded throne there was only one small footstool that stood to the left of the throne. Any person sitting on it would clearly be at a severe disadvantage to the person seated on the throne.

And the man who sat on the throne would take every advantage he could. His face was disfigured, for reasons that none dared to ask. Perhaps a misfired curse, or the strange process by which he had returned to life, had left a crater in his face instead of a nose, his eyes a glowing red, and his skull completely hairless. It was widely known that he had to have seen at least one half century through, although privately many of his servants thought he must have lived for thousands of years to have aged as dramatically as he had. The figure at his feet breathed heavily, the raised mark on its arm alerting it that it was in the presence of its Master.

"My lord," came a deep baritone. "I have news of the Potter boy." The man on the throne breathed in deeply through his mouth, throwing his head back and his chest out as he breathed out again. His eyes flicked back down to the still kneeling figure.

"Rise, my servant." His voice was a hoarse, sibilant whisper, as snake-like as the man himself. "Remove your mask, I would see your face as you report to me." The man at his feet stood slowly, standing straight and tall before he raised a gloved hand to the shining mask.

- HBP -

Thursday 21st August 1997

Ten Weeks Earlier

- HBP -

"We're going to Albania," Harry had taken Ron's advice on being simple and direct. "Dumbledore gave me, gave the three of us a task. We believe that the means to complete this task is in Albania. So we're going." As Ron had predicted, the Order descended into a whirl of noise and chaos.

"You're too young!" cawed Molly Weasley, ever the over protective mother hen.

"Too dangerous," Moody chimed in gruffly.

"Perhaps if Albus were still here…" Minerva McGonagall trailed off with a sigh. Harry stood stock still waiting for Ron to tap his leg; a prearranged signal for when Harry should continue with the rest of his short speech. It came just as the hush was dying down into coherent arguments.

"We're going to Albania." Harry repeated simply. "Try and stop us."

This declaration had prompted a mass warding of Grimmauld Place. Harry, Ron and Hermione had merely gritted their teeth, then continued with their escape plans. Hermione left first, taking advantage of Snape's constant need for ingredients. Being one of the few Order members who had carried on past OWL level Potions, she was often seen in the company of the dour Potions Master, helping him to brew. Hence, when she rushed through the front door babbling about newt eyes and wormwood extract nobody batted an eyelid. It wasn't until four hours later that they realised that Hermione had successfully escaped.

Harry went next. The order of escapes had been carefully discussed, and rowed over but in the end they had all come to the realization that if Hermione didn't manage to escape, there would be no point to the trip to Albania. And Harry would clearly be needed to destroy the Horcruxes, whilst Ron could take his time in escaping and join them in Albania when the time came. So, Harry took his escape as soon as he could, faking a vision from Voldemort that sent the Order out in droves to ward the houses of Muggle-borns. Whilst they were busy, Harry left.

Ron was, of course, the last to leave. Being the strategist, it had also been decided that he would be the most likely to find a way out of an impossible situation. Despite their earlier worries that it would take Ron a long time to get out, he managed it just a single day after Harry. It was little known just how many failed pranks his twin brothers had actually amassed over the years. Ron, as the younger sibling had ended up sort of collecting them. He had a wide range of different items that he used to cause confusion over the entirety of Grimmauld Place, before he got on a broom and flew out from a window in the attic.

In days to come, they would wish that Ron hadn't gotten out.

- HBP -

Thursday 30th October 1997

- HBP -

With the removal of his mask, the man was revealed to be little more than a boy. The skin on his face was baby smooth, almost as if he hadn't grown enough to shave. No lines crossed his forehead, and his eyes were bright with wonder.

"My lord," he said, deferentially, before dipping his head in reverence.

"You will tell me what you know of the Potter boy,"

"We have found a house, in Muggle London, that is heavily warded," the boy began.

"There are many houses in London that are heavily warded. What's so special about _this_one?"

"We believe it is the home of Potter's Mudblood friend, my lord."

"Is that all?"

"No, my lord. The wards are… different. We - I - think that they are keyed to Parseltongue, my lord. Potter awaits you." The boy froze as his master stood in front of him, one skeletal hand reaching out to grasp his chin.

"Think of the house, boy. I would see this for myself." Cold red eyes stared unwaveringly into his own, as the boy tried frantically to conjure up the memory. As he brought the image to the front of his mind, the fairly large suburban house, with a duck pond in the front garden. And then he felt _him_in his _mind!_

All grace and darkness, like a shadow crossing the borders of his consciousness. The Dark Lord gently directed his thoughts to remember the spells he had cast to reveal the wards. A glowing green snake appeared in front of an gold glowing archway, it hissed loudly. He almost thought that he could hear his master _gasp_in his mind. And then the shadow was gone, and he fell back into the real world. His lord stood in front of him, eyes narrowed.

"Who else knows of this?" He hissed, leaning forwards.

"N-n-nobody else saw the snake, master, or the arch. They didn't think to look." The boy stammered nervously.

"You will come with me. You will wait outside whilst I kill the Potter boy." His master ordered, taking his arm and pulling him into a joint apparition to the house. Strong apparition wards meant they landed at the end of the street, and both wizards could feel the wards alert Potter in the house. "Wait here." The Dark Lord ordered, walking forwards without hesitation.

He stopped, just outside the house. Just as he had seen in the boy's mind, a golden archway appeared, with a glowing green snake acting as a guard.

"What right do you have to walk here, stranger?" It spoke the ancient, formal words in Parseltongue. The Dark Lord smirked, easily recognizing the correct response.

"The right as your brethren, through this tongue. Let me pass, brother," he whispered, a sibilant hiss in the night. The snake, obligingly dissipated into nothingness, and he stepped through the arch, wand in hand as he approached the door.

Surprisingly the front door was unlocked, and it swung open at his touch. He stepped quietly through the darkened house, noting dispassionately that the kitchen, dining and sitting rooms were all covered in dust. He frowned as his mind processed the decreasing likelihood that Potter was still there.

He carefully navigated the flight of stairs, finding the first two bedrooms also empty and dust-covered. The door to the final bedroom, however, was closed, the first door in the house to be so. He sneered at the door, a painted pink plaque resided on it, reading _Hermione,_ surrounded by Muggle imitations of fairies. He opened the door using a charm, not wanting to risk any hexes that may have been placed on the handle.

His face fell at the darkened room, although he still entered, cautiously checking for signs of life. He was so focused on the dust in the room, it took him a moment to notice the girl in the rocking chair. The chair was completely still, and her head hung forwards, long brown hair obscuring her face.

She wore a long white dress that only just failed to conceal her feet, which were small and dainty, the dust nearly obscuring the painted red toenails. The Dark Lord, reached forwards to touch the perfect, porcelain skin of her bare shoulder, intending to tilt her head upwards, to find out who she was, but as soon as his fingers brushed against the cool flesh, the girl took a deep shuddering breath.

He jumped back, eyes wide. The girl hadn't been breathing the entire time he had been in the room, a matter of some minutes, his wand rising at the same time that her head snapped upwards. One part of his mind catalogued the black eyes, the cherubic nose, and barely parted red lips, while another part frantically wondered what kind of creature she was.

"Hello, Voldemort," she said, eyes glued to him. "I was hoping you'd come to visit me."

And then, as if the whole thing didn't just reek of one of those terrible Muggle horror films that he had been forced to watch at the orphanage as a boy, the girl smiled widely, exposing pearlescent white teeth - and fangs.


	2. Chapter 1: The Naming

- Chapter 1 -

The Naming

"How do you know who I am?" The Dark Lord regretted his question as soon as it had left his mouth. Of all of the things to ask, he had chosen _that?_ And it wasn't as if the girl would even answer him. He twisted his face into a dark scowl, as she smiled even more widely.

"Well, Voldemort, you are very recognizable these days. Also, I don't know if you know this, but there are currently only two Parselmouths alive. You, and Harry Potter." Her voice was soft, yet held an eagerness. "Only one of the pair of you could have gotten through my wards."

"What do you want with me and Potter?" The Dark Lord spat, slightly unnerved by this lithe creature. She blinked up at him with wide, eyes before answering him.

"Potter is simple. I'm going to kill him." Her voice was calm, and unwavering. This was no silly child decided on revenge.

"There is a prophecy, only I-" He began, but was cut off by her low chuckle.

"I know the prophecy." She said shortly. "But have you not yet guessed what I am?" The rocking chair creaked as she stood. The Dark Lord noticed dispassionately that she stood a full head shorter than he. She smiled once more, showing sharp fangs.

"Vampire?" He asked with a sudden spurt of inspiration. The girl smiled, and nodded. "But the wards would mean… you used to be a witch?" Her smile widened.

"I bet you even knew me," she taunted. "back when I was alive. Not that we ever met - I'm not sure I'd have survived. Think about it, you know my name, I'm sure you do."

It was a rare sight indeed to see the Dark Lord stuck for words. His mind quickly attempted to put together the clues. After around a minute of silence, the chit had the temerity to laugh. The Dark Lord raised his wand to point at her, but she merely laughed once more. He growled and stepped forward, only to find that the girl had moved from the chair. Before he had a chance to look for her, he felt a weight alight on his back, and felt teeth at his throat.

"You will _not_point your wand at me again, Voldemort," he could feel her lips moving across his neck as she spoke, lowly and slow so he had to strain to hear her. In a blink of the eye she was back on the rocking chair, perfectly composed, but looking pointedly at his wand. Hastily, it was lowered. "That's better. Now, I suppose I'd better tell you my name, hadn't I? I am - was - known by the name of Hermione Jean Granger."

"You're a Mudblood!" he spat out harshly, without thinking.

"And you're a half-blood. It's a moot point at any rate - I am Vampire now, and I can assure you that I have more Pureblood in me than you have in you." Her smile suddenly seemed slightly more dangerous, and the Dark Lord suddenly wished that he had paid more attention in Defence Against the Dark Arts back at Hogwarts when they had studied creatures.

"You're Potter's best friend!" he spat next, prompting a snort from the girl. "Aren't you?"

"I was _Harry__'__s_best friend," she corrected. "But then I got turned."

"And he hated you for that?" He smirked widely. "Now which side is prejudiced?"

"No, he didn't hate me for being like this." Hermione said calmly. "He hates me because I killed his best friend."

"The other one? Weasley?" She closed her eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath before nodding.

"Won't you sit with me, Voldemort?" she asked when her eyes were open once more. "Let me tell you the story… and my proposal to you…" Her eyelids batted at him seductively, and she gestured towards the bed. The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes at her slightly.

"And how am I supposed to trust that this isn't a trap?" He asked slowly.

"I'll swear a wand oath with you," she lifted her skirt, to reveal her wand strapped to her upper thigh. She pulled it out, and raised it, eyes imploring him. With a sigh, he put the tip of his wand to hers. "I, Hermione Jean Granger swear on my wand that I will do all that is within my power that you, Lord Voldemort, may leave this house unharmed and of your own volition. Is this acceptable to you?"

"These terms are acceptable," Lord Voldemort said, pulling his wand away. "Do you mind if I clear the dust that I may take a seat?" The girl looked around her as if only just noticing the layer of dust.

"Let me, Voldemort," she said, waving her wand in one fluid motion around the room. Instantly all of the dust vanished, and the surfaces were spotlessly clean. "I suppose you'll have to sit on the bed… there's not really space for another chair in here." Riddle nodded, and sat himself gingerly on the edge of the single bed, surprised to find the sheets also completely dust free.

"You were going to tell me your story?" he inquired politely. Hermione nodded, and smiled a little.

"It started… oh… what's the date?" She frowned, her head tilting to one side, and her bottom lip caught in between her front teeth.

"The thirtieth of October, nineteen-ninety-seven," Voldemort replied promptly.

"Then I suppose it started four months ago, round about when Dumbledore died. That's when Harry told Ron and I about the task that the Headmaster had left for him - to find your Horcruxes and to destroy them." She looked up at Voldemort, and shook her head as he opened his mouth to question her. "After the story, Voldemort," she admonished. "For the summer, we were all taken to the Order Headquarters, and they tried to separate the three of us, they thought that we would do something stupid, which, of course, we did. Harry and Ron worked on defensive spells and battle strategies, whilst I did the research on Horcruxes.

"I worked out, much as you had, I assume, that Albania was where the knowledge was kept after about six weeks. So, the three of us escaped the Order, and we went to Albania. We were staying in a tent, all of the time, so we kept having to go out to get firewood, and things. On the twenty-ninth of August, we had camped at a rocky outcrop, of sorts. I went out to collect some firewood, maybe find a source of water…" Hermione trailed off, looking speculatively into the distance.

"But something found you?" Voldemort suggested once the silence had trailed over a few minutes. Hermione nodded.

"Yes, something found me. I woke up a while later, and all I could think was that I was thirsty. And I could smell them - Harry and Ron. They hadn't even gone to look for me, even though I'd been gone more than three hours. They'd just waited. Ron was closest to the entrance of the tent, so it was Ron that I went for. I drained him dry, while Harry shot every spell he could think of at my back. Something must have worked, because the next thing I remember, I woke up back at Headquarters, tied to a chair in the kitchen.

"The entire Order was there, debating what to do with me. You should have seen it; it was like a cattle farm. I'd wager that your meetings aren't nearly so puerile. Molly Weasley wanted to put me to death for killing her son, Minerva McGonagall wanted to keep me locked away working on things for the Order, Mad-Eye led the largest viewpoint. To throw me out of the Order, and to let me fend for myself. Isn't it funny? The amount of people there who I had known since I was a child, and they just left me to rot. They thought that I wouldn't be able to tap into any of my powers, being a newborn. Ha! What fools." She snorted derisively, and the Dark Lord leant forwards, his head tilted to one side.

"You worked out how to use your powers on your own?" He asked, almost disbelievingly. She nodded absently. "But… but that would mean you are _formidable._"

"I was formidable as a human. They called me the smartest witch of my generation. But now…" Her eyes flicked to his with derision. "Now, I am unstoppable. And that's what I'm offering you, Voldemort. A chance to be formidable, unstoppable. I want you to be mine." She stared up at him, a slight pout on her lips.

"To… to be yours?" He asked slowly. "What do you mean by that?"

"You could be mine, you could be my Tom. Immortal, near invincible in your old body. As my mate, we would be linked, near one. I could fulfil the Prophecy in regards to Potter with you, and we could rule everything. Just imagine us, Tom. We would be beautiful together, you and I. We _will_be beautiful together, if you would just let us." The Dark Lord leant back on the bed, his forehead wrinkled in a frown.

"You could turn me back?" He asked wistfully. "Make me like I was? I used to be handsome, you know. I was considered quite the catch at Hogwarts. And I'd gain powers too, right? But I could never be as powerful as you?"

"No, you would not be as powerful as me, but you would still be more powerful than you are now. I saw pictures of you, and Pensieve memories too, before… If you hadn't been so pretty, I wouldn't have come to you. I don't like ugly people." Hermione drew in a deep breath through her nose, and licked her lips. "I can hear your blood, rushing through your veins. It calls to me. Let me make you mine, please?"

Voldemort drew in a sharp, rasping breath at her tone. As soon as she had mentioned blood her entire demeanour had changed. Instead of the demure little girl she had looked, her eyes had darkened with what was either hunger, or arousal, and her voice had been lower, huskier. And damnit, he liked it. Her eyes locked with his own… Instead of the deep pools of amber that they had been, her eyeballs were now completely black. She was beautiful.

"I…" Voldemort stammered. "I… Yes! I am yours!"


	3. Chapter 2: The Turning

- Chapter 2 -

The Turning

_ "I…" Voldemort stammered. "I… Yes! I am yours!"_

Hermione smiled, as she slowly stood, stretching her body sensuously. Voldemort couldn't move his eyes from her lithe form - a woman who wanted _him,_ as he was. Voldemort was many things, but he was not a fool. He had seen his face in a mirror - bald with missing features, and red eyes that glowed when there was little light. But she _wanted _him. She had _chosen _him, in spite of knowing exactly what he was.

"No," Hermione whispered gently. "Not in spite of what you are, because of it…"

"You… you just read…?"

"Yes, and you'll be able to read minds we are one also. Not those with strong Occlumency, but most minds, love." She smiled widely. "Now, let me come to you. Lower your shields."

Voldemort drew in a deep breath through the remnants of his nose, and then dropped the Occlumency shields that he'd held for as long as he could remember. His eyes widened as he felt another presence on the border of his mind, and he gasped sharply as he felt a real hand on his face, stroking his cheek.

"Let me in, love." The vampire whispered gently. "Show me your core!"

Voldemort gasped as her lips pressed against his own.

"Open yourself to me, love." She whispered against his skin. "Let me in!" Voldemort tilted his head further, exposing more pale skin to her milky-white teeth, that scraped, and nipped, and-

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

When he woke again, all he could remember was a haze of amber pleasure, and a warm liquid filling his mouth.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

He cursed when he recalled how to speak. He was weak, so, so weak. It was almost like the days before his resurrection. Warm, struggling souls were brought to him, then they became cold, still and lifeless and he grew stronger. And stronger. And stronger.

Hermione spoke to him in the hours and days before he could move. She told him of her childhood, how she had been _happy._ At Hogwarts too, she had been happy. Until… Until she had been bitten.

"I know, logically, that it's not my fault." She told him early one morning. "And I know that I am better off now, but sometimes, I just wish to be happy, just one more time. If I'd known then, that that was the last time…"

"Not… the last…" he gasped, still struggling to do much of anything without painful effort. "I will… make you… happy, again. I… swear."

She had smiled then, with her eyes as well as her lips, a rare sight indeed, and one that Voldemort was proud that he had managed to induce. It was strange, he reflected, that in so long he had not wanted to make anyone happy, and now he wanted nothing more than to please this woman. _His _woman.

"Oh, love," she crooned, moving to sit on the bed next to him, a cool hand stroking his fevered brow. "Each day you prove to me that I chose well. It shan't be long 'til you are strong again, and then we will show the world just how strong you are. Together." This time, her smile didn't reach her eyes, but to Voldemort it was just as beautiful as her previous one.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

The next time she fed him, he was awake, and coherent enough to see the warm, struggling body, to press his own lips to the torn flesh, to drink down the succulent nourishment. And when his eyes opened again, and he saw the babe's skin was blue, his sadistic grin was, in a word, bloody.

"He was called Daniel." Hermione's head was tilted, eyes fixed on the dead child. "Daniel Everglade." A hand reached out, and grabbed a hold of its foot, dangling it in the air between herself and Voldemort who was still lying prostrated on the bed. "His mother was screaming for him, trying to work out where he'd gone." It swung now, the corpse, like the pendulum of a morbid grandfather clock. "But Lottie Everglade won't find her little Danny, now will she?" With a sound that was half-giggle, half-sob, she waved her hand at Daniel Everglade's body.

Fire started at the foot that she wasn't holding, the sickly smell of burning flesh causing Voldemort to gag slightly, but Hermione didn't notice. No, her eyes were still fixed on Daniel's face, licked by flames.

She didn't move until there were only bones and ashes left, not even blinking as Voldemort attempted to heave up his last meal.

"Bye-bye, little Danny!" She crooned. "Don't you worry. Your brother will be joining you soon…"

And his brother did, six days later when Voldemort watched Hermione play with the nine year old. The boy darted this way, and that, trying to escape the small bedroom, but to no avail.

When Hermione kissed him afterwards, Voldemort thought that she tasted sweeter than any honey he'd ever known.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

It took nearly three weeks for Voldemort to regain his strength enough to stand on his own. Hermione still refused to let him catch his own food, delighting in bringing him small children from up and down the country.

"The parents are sooo funny," she confided in him as he sat up, back against the wall. Hermione climbed onto the bed next to him, wiping the blood from her lips with her hand and squirmed under his arm to lean on his chest. "They just keep looking, and screaming, and crying… Have you ever tasted tears, Voldemort?" Her lover shook his head. "We'll have to fix that. They're so beautiful. We don't _need _them, but they make a nice treat. Haha, my treat to you!"

Thinking on it, Hermione reminded Voldemort of the Bellatrix of the old days, but younger, and prettier, and more full of… _death_.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

It was a full month after Voldemort's transformation that Hermione declared him ready to become Tom once more. They left the house for the first time, and as Tom looked around at the bare trees, and the frost that already covered the ground he was forcibly reminded of how much he'd already missed. When he voiced his concerns to Hermione, he was rewarded with her tinkling laughter.

"Oh, Voldemort, of course you've lost time… but just _think_ of what you're gaining in return!" Her eyes flashed, bottomless black.

He took her hand in his as she side-along apparated them to Boscawen Un, a stone circle in Conrwall. His hand still in hers, she led him to the centre of the nineteen stones, bidding him to lie against the obelisk.

Hermione hitched up her skirt, causing Voldemort's breath to catch as he glimpsed her upper thigh, from where she pulled a previously sheathed knife. Slowly, so that he could see exactly what she was doing, Hermione slit her wrist and walked in a circle around him, letting the blood form a perfect circle.

"Blood, of my blood, bring back the beauty that once was. Stone, of thy stone, bring back the youth that once was." Hermione repeated the chant, over, and over, and over. Voldemort couldn't tell how long he'd been lain over the stone, all he knew was her voice, and the magic that poured out of him with frightening speed.

Before he passed out, he saw her eyes, as black as the night sky behind her. Her fingers traced gently over his face, and she pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Tom, you're back." Her smile was a memory to treasure.


	4. Chapter 3: A Return

- Chapter 3 -

A Return

"_Tom, you're back…"_

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

They stayed silent, in their ritualistic half-circles, shifting nervously. Each demi-mask shone silver as curious eyes fixed on the crumpled figure in the centre of their configuration.

Dirty, torn, off-white dress. Soft chestnut curls matted with blood. Pale, near translucent skin. More than one of the self-proclaimed Death Eaters felt his pulse quicken, his pupils dilate and his mouth begin to salivate. From the shadows, a figure marked them off in his mind.

A sharp crack echoed out into the silence, voluminous robes swirling into view. As one, the assembled knelt, heads bowed, faces turned respectfully to the ground.

"You may risssse, my faithful sssservantssss," the sibilant hiss rang out. "You have waited patiently for many weekssss, assss I had inssssstructed have you not?" The sharp eyes in the shadows noted those who twitched. "And sssso I have brought you a treat."

To their credit – or perhaps it could be attributed to their great fear – not one Death Eater so much as _looked _in the direction of what they now knew to be a sacrifice to sate their collective lusts.

"I musssst warn you, however..." Their master continued as if he had not paused for a full ninety seconds. "That sssshe issss not assss fragile assss sssshe lookssss." He paused again. "Sssso, who will be firsssst?"

It was Bellatrix Lestrange who first moved forwards, followed closely by her husband and brother-in-law.

"Come out, come out, little girl!" She sung out prettily, a parody of the vicious snarl on her face. "Auntie Bella wants to play with youuuu!"

The head of the huddled figure jerked to one side.

Bella kept singing.

"It's okay little girl, don't be scared. We're going to have _lots _of fun together!"

Another twitch, although this one was full-body.

Bella crept closer, closer, and closer still.

"Come play with Auntie Bella!" A hand reached out to pet the curls.

At that first touch, all hell broke loose. Hermione's head swung round, her arms raised up and she pulled the deranged witch forwards onto her, nestling her face into the crook of dear Auntie Bella's neck. Bellatrix only screamed for a moment before she went limp.

Her husband let out an anguished cry and ran forwards, his brother mere seconds behind. Two wands snapped, and then two necks.

Antonin Dolohov came next, wand casting furiously, gasping aloud as even the emerald green of the killing curse was batted away by the girl who now stood. She smiled widely, pearly white teeth marred only by fangs shone brightly under the moonlight.

"I've seen you before, I think," her eerie whisper carried across the graveyard. "I should return your present..."

Before he could blink, she was in front of him, nails of her left hand slicing him deeply from shoulder to hip diagonally across his chest. He looked down at the blood spilling from him, blinking slowly.

"Granger?" he wheezed softly. She smiled as he dropped to the floor, still gasping. Her cheeks dimpled, and she ducked her head down in a show of mock-shyness.

"You _remember _me!" She sung, smile widening as he coughed blood. "So glad that I made an impression, but I think we'll all remember today a teensy bit more, don't you?"

The remaining Death Eaters, stayed back, eyes aghast at the bloodied remains of their four most vicious, most feared fighters. Hermione's head tilted to the right as she smiled, blood glistening on her lips.

"Doesn't anybody else want a go?" She asked, eyes wide and innocent. "Surely one of you big, strong men could take a little thing like me down?"

Predictably Goyle took the bait, unpredictably choosing to lunge at the girl rather than utilising his wand. With a sunny laugh, she nimbly dodged to the side, catching Casper Crabbe as he jumped into the fray to support his friend.

"Is this your bestest friend, Mr Goyle?" She asked the first man, still struggling to pry his hefty weight from the ground. "He tried to help you, isn't that sweet?" Her smile widened as Goyle's eyes did the same, seeing the much larger man in front of her. She, almost hidden, but for the arm around Casper's neck and her pale face bobbing next to his neck. "Oh can you see me now? That's good. I wanted to watch _you_, you see."

"Let him go and I won't hurt you." Goyle called out, frustration etched upon every line of his face. "Just let him go."

"Oh no, I couldn't do _that_." With a flash of her pearly whites, Hermione's teeth sunk into Crabbe's neck, but her eyes were still focused up on Goyle, who, to his credit only let his despair show for a moment before he launched himself at the killer of his best friend, stunners and cutting curses spewing from his wand. A swift kick at the still-warm corpse of Crabbe sent the body careening to meet Goyle's rapidly advancing body and gave the young vampire just the space she needed to avoid the few spells that still danced from Goyle's wand.

Goyle froze as he felt small hands grasp his neck from behind him.

"Your face was a _picture_ when I killed him. Too bad I can't see it now..." He could feel her breath on his ear, and then with a sharp twist he felt no more.

The Carrow twins advanced as one from either side of her. Their wands moved in tandem sending a lethal volley of cutting curses, reducto curses and banishers interspersed with killing curses. Alecto was taken out first, too surprised at the corpse of Bellatrix advancing upon her to see the small vampire hidden behind. A slash of sharpened nails across her throat sent her life blood arcing in a fountain, liberally coating the already stained white dress, but also Amycus. A strangled whisper escaped his throat as her body dropped, lifeless to the ground. In parallel, Amycus dropped to his knees.

"Kill me." He whimpered as Hermione daintily stepped in front of him. "I am nothing without her." A sharp bite to his neck and he slumped to the side only moments later.

Hermione's eyes scanned over the remaining Death Eaters, all stood still in fright.

"You will do." She said simply. "You will do _quite _nicely."

- HBP – HBP- HBP – HBP – HBP -

**A/N: **Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me... Pretty much everything has been updated today, so check out the new installments of everything else too!


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